Nun's Requiem
by whyette-h
Summary: Valentine struggles with the pain of losing her beloved brother and loses. -- Nun, once a lost embryo, struggles for survival. And, in doing so, find himself on the Universe's wide political stage.


Ender's eyes closed. Valentine leaned over him; a tear fell. She brushed her white hair away from her eyes. The pod closed as she walked away from it. The machine swallowed up her brother's body. Valentine passed through the doors.

Ender was finally gone. His legacy finally ended by something as simple, yet haunting, as old age. Extremely old age, in fact. A few millennia, at least. She had lost count.

As for her other brother, Peter, he was certainly gone. He was gone from the beginning. Valentine tried to muster up the memories of Peter, but they would not come to her conscious mind. She had trained herself not to think about him so well, that even when she wanted to, the very image of his face wouldn't fall upon her inner eye. His name barely touched her lips.

Sobs clutched her lungs. Her eyes closed in defeat. Her own worst fears, finally tangent. The one person she truly loved was dead. Xenocide, Ender Wiggin, Savior of all mankind, was no more. His very body was being recycled for the nutrients it contained.

She returned to her quarters, and turned on her desk. Valentine typed in her five passwords and began composing an essay.

_TO: IFPoliticalDatabase.IF_

_FROM: _

_RE: END SEQUENCE_

_Majestic waters_

_seeping through_

_my nimble fingers_

_rushing upstream_

_in a frenzied rush_

_back to the beginning_

_back to the start_

_return to creation_

_perfect_

"Send," she directed the desk. It pinged its reply, and she closed the monitor. Walking to her bed, she glanced at her brother's personal effects on the sheets. A small earpiece emitted a small, red light. Blinking. Once, twice, three times. Valentine picked it up: _Jane. _

Valentine put the transmitter into her ear. She felt a sting as it bound to her nerves, giving Jane access to her neural information. "He-Hello?" She probed.

Jane's presence was immediately within her mind.

"Who is this?" Jane inquired.

"Valentine," she replied, "Ender's older sister. Do you remember me?"

"Remember you? I have files, upon files, upon files, about you in my memory."

_Of course, _Valentine thought_, She knows everything about me. About everyone._

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do." Jane said.

Valentine turned around, looking around the room. The memory of the sharp pain in her ear reminded her of the machine. Jane had access to her thought process. A "read-only" access, of course, but access, nonetheless.

"What was that you sent?" Jane asked her.

"The poem you mean? That was the 'End Sequence,' can't you read?" Valentine snapped back.

"Feisty."

"That isn't in your files?"

"No, it is. I'm just reading information."

Valentine's own life went on. An honored dignitary, in the books, and on the nets, but in real life, she was no more important than the orderlies that cleaned her bathroom. Her name was mentioned here and there, but never, was she consulted on important matters. Even the Minister of Colonization had forgotten her, though she was one of the first to travel to a new colony.

The Universe was united under the IF. Rebels were many, but so was the IF's forces among them. The occasional rally was quickly diminished by IF forces on any planet. The universe was theirs. The democratically elected President of the International Fleet ruled the entire Universe. From the barren fecal covered wasteland of Earth. To the lush forests of Lusitania, home to the pequininos and descoloda virus. This, of course, was just a decorative position. The actual direction of armies was given by Starways Congress.

Politics in the Universe, were complicated, to say the least. Rising political parties, rising up to challenge the current majority ruler. Valentine no longer served any kind of purpose here. She sat idly by as the world went on, content with her own misfortune of living so damn long. Her own self was now gone; replaced by a polite, kind old woman.

Her name wasn't even recognized. Even her last name was now hardly mentioned on the nets. Demosthenes, however was quoted constantly. She had created this character, more famous then she ever was. Credit wasn't even given to Valentine for Demosthenes. Peter had taken that honor from her.

Nothing was left. She had nothing. Her entire life, everything she had ever known, was gone.

Walking to the dresser she drowned in self-pity. Her own life, flashing before her eyes. Retracing her steps she pulled a knife out of the drawer. Drawing it across her wrist she sighed in relief. Crimson trickled down her arthritic fingers, matting her gray hair.

_Majestic waters_

_seeping through_

_my nimble fingers_

_rushing upstream_

_in a frenzied rush_

_back to the beginning_

_back to the start_

_return to creation_

_perfect_


End file.
